


Celestial Silver

by Sugar_and_Salt



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Ballet, M/M, MAMA Powers, Mentions of Violence, Romance, alternative universe, mafia, sort of dystopia, tiny blood splatters, what a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-07 14:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugar_and_Salt/pseuds/Sugar_and_Salt
Summary: Loyalty to Kyungsoo comes in the form of blue graffitis lining the streets of the underground city. In this deep, deep sea ranging from periwinkle to midnight blue, a spark of silver appears.





	Celestial Silver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NinaFlores97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinaFlores97/gifts).



> I might have run away a little with this prompt, but the heart should remain the same. I hope you can enjoy this <3

Today, Kyungsoo was clad in midnight blue, in a shade so dark that you had to get very close to realize it wasn't black, like his eyes were. Kyungsoo preferred it when people did not get that close to him though. With his orderly pressed dress pants and relatively simple, classy jacket, he stood out starkly against the hallway he was walking down. The withered down bricks to his left didn't match the blank stone wall to his right, and above his head, the ceiling was made of yet another material. That was just the natural way things had developed over time, when the city had merged. It had started with shopping centers merging with adjacent structures, and when the rain got sour enough to be a serious threat to children's health, the progress was sped up dramatically. Nowadays, seeing actual sunlight was rare. Everything was indoors and connected, from living quarters to government buildings. It wasn't that big of a change or that terrible of a life, in Kyungsoo's opinion. Then again he had been born inside the city he knew today. ' _It's because people are trapped like rats that things are the way they are_ ,' elderly people liked to say. Kyungsoo silently disagreed. The world couldn't have possibly been a better place, ever. Because deep down, humanity was naturally toxic.

Either way, one would have to inspect the walls very closely to notice the difference in textures and material, with the way they were almost entirely covered in blue graffiti. Kyungsoo didn't have to do so, because he knew. He knew these streets well, knew them like the back of his own hand. This part of the city was home. _His_ home.

 

The city was vast with claustrophobic, dirty streets around sea level and beneath, and rich districts with wide spaces and actual windows on top of everything. Kyungsoo's territory was only a part of the overall cluster that was their home, but it reached all the way down to the dirty roots as well as up into the breezy crown of the city. It was still growing, too. The characteristic blue was spreading, crawling across the walls with every new place they claimed as theirs. Today, though, Kyungsoo ventured along the border, walked down streets littered with streaks of red and blue, and even the occasional speck of orange. He wasn't here to conquer though, at least not in the classic sense. No, his destination was the only theatre in the surrounding districts. As a person of name and (unofficial) rank, it wasn't strange to see Kyungsoo attend cultural festivities, usually flanked by his most trusted men as he mingled with other big names. He might have been born in the dirt, but Kyungsoo got where he did because he realized all too soon that it wasn't brute force and threats that got people to the top, at least not for long. No, it was all about trust. 

Kyungsoo had washed blood off his hands before, and he was always capable of spilling more, but that was not the reason people followed him and whispered praises across the walls in hues of blue and violet.

No, they followed him because they trusted him. Because they felt safe and protected under him, because they felt like life was fair and just under him. Because the numbers of _accidents_ and dead bodies on the streets had never been as low. If a street was blue all around, parents were not afraid of letting their children roam freely there.

Kyungsoo could reach out for more, but maintaining a big territory was hard, and he knew the limit of his people. That's why his left hand, Luhan, had gotten him a ticket to this particular dance performance. Because apparently, a new person with _potential_ had arrived, and that meant a race for the surrounding associations. People with that special potential were highly sought after and powerful members. That's how Kyungsoo found himself in the first row, absently looking at the red curtain, waiting for the performance to begin. They were late, but most events were, especially if they weren't backed up by the government. People had stepped down a bit from expecting everything to run smoothly - at least around the middle and lower grounds, where people had plenty of issues themselves and were grateful for any leeway they got.

"The curtain is ugly," Zitao grumbled to his right, and Kyungsoo resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"That's the way traditional theater curtains look. You wanna gift them a new one?" he asked, but it was all in good spirit. Zitao was his right hand, his most loyal member and like a little brother to him. They went way back to childhood days when Kyungsoo had been there for him during a time nobody else was.

"If you finance it," the other sassed back, and Kyungsoo was about to reply when the lights dimmed down and the curtain raised. Personally, Kyungsoo preferred movies over old-fashioned theater performances, but on the list of activities that had to be done, this was still way more pleasant than stiff dinners or boring exhibitions.

He had been informed about the dancer. He had known what to expect, and yet he was fascinated when he appeared out of thin air, a sudden presence in the wisps of smoke, supported by haunting music. The new dancer was a teleporter. And his presence was _magnetic_. Kyungsoo was actually shocked, despite his features not giving any of it away. The young man was nothing short of beautiful. Now Kyungsoo had encountered many people who had tried to lure him in with the image of soft, innocent beauty, but this one was different. He had a sharp edge, the smallest smile ghosting over his expression as well as perfect, confident control over his body. Then he began to _dance_ , and Kyungsoo forgot all about his teleportation power for the time being. Even when other dancers joined him eventually, Kyungsoo's eyes were glued to the lead, glued to this man named Kim Jongin, to his muscular legs and the way they glided across the stage. This wasn't as traditional of a ballet as he had expected and whatever the ongoing story was, Jongin portrayed a character without words, sultry and strong, tempting and mysterious. Kyungsoo didn't know the words to describe what he was seeing, was as far away from an expert as one could get, really, but he was silently soaking up what he saw. The way he gave himself the momentum for spins, the controlled elegance and fiery look in his eyes had Kyungsoo captivated, dare he say mesmerized. It came as a bit of a shock since he couldn't remember the last time something had caught him off guard in such a positive way. When was the last time he had felt like that?

He thought about that an hour after the performance was over, when he lay in bed, staring at the clean, white ceiling that was faintly illuminated by the artificial light shining in through his tiny window. It dipped the room in a slight blue, thanks to the painted walls outside. It was very familiar.

With a small sigh, Kyungsoo reached to tug the pager off his wristband. He could have approached the dancer off stage, but that was too intrusive and obvious. Instead, he had gotten his contact data. Kyungsoo hesitated. He wasn't arrogant enough as to delude himself into thinking he never doubted his actions, but he had never hesitated for this specific reason. Kim Jongin had been majestic, a glowing presence, the heart of the stage. And Kyungsoo didn't want to involve him in anything at all. The boy belonged there, he lived and breathed ballet, and it was painfully obvious. He'd much rather let him dance. Maybe return to watch. It was a foolish thought - what if someone else snatched the boy away, someone who would not be kind enough to let him step on the stage? - and yet Kyungsoo sent his message anonymously.

 _I saw your show today. It was amazing._  
They said you're a newcomer - congratulations on such an impressive first performance.  
It was truly stunning.

He didn't expect an immediate answer - he was a stranger to him, after all - but the reply came within a couple minutes.

_Thank you so much!  
I was really nervous since the stage is much bigger than the one from my home town... it wasn't perfect, but I'm really happy to hear you enjoyed it!_

_How did you get my contact?_

Not 'Who are you?', just 'How did you get my number?'. Kyungsoo wasn't sure whether this Kim Jongin was testing him or simply very naive. He half-heartedly pondered that as he dozed off, just an hour and a half before he'd meet up with someone. What kind of a person was Kim Jongin and how would they proceed with this dazzling new person that had entered the stage that was this city?

 

 

* * *

 

 

It turned out that yes, Kim Jongin was terribly naive. He recently moved to the capital from a tiny town in the South in order to stand on an actual stage. It wasn't just the tale of a girl seeking fame in former Hollywood, though - Jongin was a ballet prodigy, that much Kyungsoo quickly heard of. It was only a matter of time until he stood on the biggest stage the city had to offer, dressed in the most impressive costumes and decorating the news pages. Now the issue was that while Jongin wasn't a stupid person, he was blissfully unaware of _how_ serious the gang society of the capital was. He wasn't aware of how dangerous his life was, harbouring such a talent. He had even easily opened up about it to Kyungsoo within a day.

_I was worried people would reduce me to the teleportation stuff, but they didn't, for the most part?_

_Well... you did showcase it immediately?,_ Kyungsoo texted back. The reply came promptly.

_Ah, yes... it's a bit embarrassing, but it was just flat publicity._

That this publicity stunt had placed him on a silver platter for a power-hungry bunch of bloodhounds to fight for didn't occur to him at all. Kyungsoo didn't tell him. He was one of them, after all.

Jongin did ask for his name, but only once. When Kyungsoo told him he'd prefer to stay anonymous, the other accepted it. Just like that.

It took a few more days of texting in between meetings, work and dance recitals until Kyungsoo really found out why Jongin was reacting the way he did.

_I'm really happy you're talking to me, to be honest. My friends back home are pretty busy and I don't know anyone here. I don't even know what to do with my time when I'm not dancing._

He added a laughing emoticon to it, but Kyungsoo felt like there was not much to laugh about. The capital was big and a bit too dangerous to venture out and make friends in - though he doubted Jongin realized that. The boy just seemed too socially awkward to attempt anything like that.

_Could you recommend me some nice places, maybe?_

He replied with a lot of 'Thank You's when Kyungsoo listed the safest streets of his district, and Kyungsoo caught himself wishing he could see his actual face instead. But they weren't close enough to be sending each other photos, and it seemed like even under different circumstances, Jongin would be just as inclined to send photos as Kyungsoo himself - which would be not at all. He'd really like to see his face again though. After the performance, in between countless bows, Kyungsoo had caught a glimpse of his happy smile, and it looked so utterly different from his stage persona that it came almost as a shock. Kyungsoo saw him now, saw the genuine, raw, lively person in between the lines they exchanged.

And he wanted to meet him again. This time for purely selfish reasons. He won't allow himself that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kyungsoo may be a patient leader who was open to advice from those he trusted, but he _was_ the leader. To his people's disappointment, he made it clear that they would not make any attempts at recruiting Jongin. Zitao, however, who was aware of the fact that they were in contact, silently assumed that Kyungsoo wanted to recruit Jongin himself. He didn't say it, but Kyungsoo knew. Because that was the key to holding everything together - do not neglect your members, know them inside out. Know what drives them, what makes them loyal, what angers them. Zitao had absolute faith in Kyungsoo and maybe this time, Kyungsoo would have to disappoint him on purpose. Because he was fond of Jongin, way too fond, considering he had only known him for a few weeks and only saw him in person once. That meant that rationally speaking, he should not involve Jongin in this, in order not to become vulnerable, and in order for Jongin not to become vulnerable. The story could end there. Kyungsoo wasn't sure how long he'd silently be yearning to get closer to this person that was off limits, just like every person was off limits for him. But there was Zitao, who always poked his nose where it didn't belong.

"I know where he is," he said casually as they sat in a café, waiting for the owner to return. The owner always needed to be reigned in carefully, and that's what they did by showing up out of the blue on the regular. Kyungsoo stirred his tea with a carefully schooled, blank expression. He didn't ask _who_ they were talking about.

"I didn't ask you to look for him," he said instead.

Zitao's earrings actually jingled as he leaned forwards with a confident expression they both knew only existed because Kyungsoo allowed it.

"He's walking down Flower street right now, going to that barbecue restaurant you like. You wanna meet him there?"

Kyungsoo narrowed his eyes at him, just a little.

"I don't like it when you make assumptions about me," he said, and Zitao leaned back again, looking unfazed.

"That's how it works though, right? People make assumptions about each other all the time. It's what keeps society alive."

"That may be true but I'd prefer if you'd stop acting on them like that," Kyungsoo replied, a tad sour. He blinked, and then Zitao's earrings were jingling even more, despite him not moving anywhere.

"Took a turn for a detour through Golden street."

Kyungsoo wasn't impressed.

"Stop wasting your energy like that," he sighed, a sign of leniency they both knew he'd always had when it came to Zitao. Still, he meant it. Due to his ability to extract himself from time, technically speaking, Zitao would be the most powerful man in the capital, maybe even internationally, though other obscure talents were surely hiding in the shadows of the world. In this town, however, he was. And yet he wasn't. Kyungsoo was.

Zitao's expression softened a bit.

"This isn't draining me, have some faith," he said, and it sounded more like a promise than a jab at him. A rare flash of genuity that was quickly replaced by cockiness as he saw the owner of the café reluctantly walking towards them.

"Now go and get him," he said quietly, urgently, and Kyungsoo got to his feet before he could reason with himself.

"I won't _get him_ ," Kyungsoo announced, and there was nothing but truth in his words that went horribly misinterpreted by Zitao.

"Sure you won't. Just go, I can take care of this."

Kyungsoo sent him a last look, eyes flitting over to the owner of the shop, too, who was currently fiddling with some documents to stall for time.

"Fine. But no threats," he reminded him. The other waved him off, and Kyungsoo left the café. The air didn't change. It remained the same, neutral, cool air that the government's air vent system provided. Kyungsoo didn't mind, though he also wouldn’t mind another trip to the surface. His feet carried him forward while his mind was still figuring out what he was going to do. There was no way he was delusional enough to ignore the fact that he just wanted to see Jongin for selfish reasons.

The streets were deserted at this time of the day - he only encountered one lone policeman he shared a polite nod with. Most people were at work, housewives and men back at home. But there, in the maze of some of the oldest streets in town he saw Kim Jongin, standing still, one hand tracing the graffiti along the walls. Kyungsoo couldn't see his expression from where he stood, but he could see his posture. It was nothing like the strong, controlled dancer he had seen on stage. From his soft brown hair to his worn out, casual clothes, Jongin looked... normal. Kyungsoo just stood there, watching as Jongin's fingers followed the blue swirls across the wall. What now? Kyungsoo didn't know what exactly he wanted, and that was rare. He could just move on, walk past him, go back to his office. Jongin wouldn't even recognize him, it would be fine. But Kyungsoo had never wanted to get closer to someone as much as he did now. Yes, there were instances where he had been eager to befriend someone, be it out of friendship or simply for business reasons. He had _wanted_ people before, had found them physically attractive. But Jongin just had something else to him, something Kyungsoo couldn't quite pinpoint but wasn't willing to let go of either. So when Jongin retrieved his hand, he called out to him, half-startled by the movement and spurred on by the fear he might leave.

"You're really brave."

Jongin flinched, but he didn't look scared to see someone walking towards him, maybe a little surprised.

"Wearing a scarf like that around here," Kyungsoo added, coming to a halt in front of him, observing him closely - a habit. Jongin's fingers flew up to his signal-red scarf, fingers pressing into the wool self-consciously, head tilted just the slightest bit.

"Why?" he asked, voice a little lighter than his own. His gaze flitted down Kyungsoo's face, then lingered on his eyes. Kyungsoo felt on edge, like he was in a combat situation, not a deserted alley with a harmless ballet dancer.

"The color," he explained, clearing his throat as he vaguely pointed at the nearest wall. "It's not blue."

Jongin seemed delighted over the fact that someone was ready to explain this to him and placed his palm on the wall.

"What do they mean? Why are they all blue?" he asked curiously, and Kyungsoo looked at the paintings of letters, caricatures and flowers. The overall picture was blue, but from up close you could see the lightest hues of violet and white accents.

"They show who's in charge here," Kyungsoo replied, and Jongin nodded in vague understanding, before turning towards him again.

"Are they good people?"

Kyungsoo actually chuckled at that.

"You’ve got some nerves, asking that in public."

 _Asking **me** that_, he added internally. Jongin only looked a little sheepish, and somehow, they both looked back at the graffiti. A very large font proclaimed that ' _Creation Comes After Destruction - (and you know that)',_ and Kyungsoo smiled. To think that even someone of Chanyeol's rank contributed to them. Then again, they all started out small, even him. Even Kyungsoo.

"You need to find out for yourself, whether they're 'good' or not," he replied eventually, and Jongin's eyes were already back on him. On his neck, specifically.

"You have a tattoo," he stated, neutral but open towards the end, waiting for Kyungsoo to contribute something. Kyungsoo didn't fiddle with his collar - the string of words decorating his neck like a choker tended to sometimes peek out, and there was no point in hiding it.

"It's proof that I belong to them," Kyungsoo said softly, and he saw the wheels turning in Jongin's head, saw him glancing at the massive writing on the wall.

"Does it say the same thing?"

Kyungsoo shook his head.

"No, it doesn't."

Jongin looked curious, but ultimately accepted the lack of an answer.

"Thanks for explaining all of this. I'm still new here and a bit oblivious to how this city is run," he said with a small smile, rubbing his neck. Where Kyungsoo was stoic, everything about Jongin was flighty and maybe even shy. Why did Kyungsoo still feel like no one had the upper hand right now?

"Where I'm from, things were simpler," he said, trailing off as he seemed to remember something and tugged lightly at his scarf.

"So should I not wear this anymore? Is it gonna get me into trouble?"

Kyungsoo placed his hand over Jongin's, pushing the scarf back into place.

"Don't bother with it now. It's not that warm out here and catching a cold would be no good. They should turn up the heat a little soon. Maybe rethink your wardrobe choice next time," he said, no trace of a threat in his voice. "There is no law telling you what to wear, but... some people are stupid. No matter the faction."

Jongin nodded, and he seemed entranced by Kyungsoo's face for some reason. Figuring that this had gone on long enough, Kyungsoo gave him a nod, a curt goodbye and walked away. He only managed three steps and the blood was still rushing in his ears, belatedly sending heat up his cheeks, when Jongin called after him.

"You have a _skill_ , don't you?"

A skill. Some people could pick out people with supernatural skills with a single look, like Luhan. That was a rare talent, but every gifted person could tell their own people apart. Kyungsoo had spent a lot of time on sharpening this sense of his, but even the most untrained, gullible children were able to pick up on it eventually. People like Zitao and Jongin gave Kyungsoo a different feeling overall than regular people. And apparently, Jongin had caught up on it, too.

He didn't look back at Jongin, choosing his words wisely.

"Many people have them here. Be careful."

With this, he left. Jongin didn't go after him, and Kyungsoo didn't take the route leading straight to his office. He made a little detour, exchanged some friendly words with shopkeepers, handed over some bills including a generous tip, trying to downplay the weird buzzing in his stomach. He knew what it was, and he'd reflect on the trouble he got himself into. Later. When he was alone.

 

The next day, when Jongin returned from dance practice, he found a little package with no return address. Inside was a scarf, simple and expensive, no doubt. It wasn't blue, but of a light grey, with fine strings of silver woven into it.

  
 

* * *

 

 

_It was you_

_Did you know?_

Kyungsoo only saw the text hours later when he was alone. He had just sat down on his bed after ridding himself of his dress shirt - tiny specks of blood had gotten on it; he'd deal with that later. Sure, he could have it cleaned for him, but this was something he was particular about. He didn’t like detaching himself from what he was and what he did. Action meant consequence. And another consequence was awaiting him on his pager screen, discreetly showing up in the bottom right corner until he maximized it. At this point, more messages had followed.

_Did you follow me around?_

_Do you want anything from me?_

_Can't you at least tell me your name?_

At the very bottom was a photo that arrived just a few minutes ago, taken at an awkward angle that only showed bits of Jongin's nose, his lips (his _sinfully plush_ lips), and the silver scarf that was loosely wrapped around his neck.

_It's a really pretty scarf, either way. Thank you._

Kyungsoo looked at the photo and sighed. What had he done? Jongin knew what he looked like now, but not who he was. It should stay like that. If the wrong people found out how Jongin was associated with him, he'd be in trouble. Then again Jongin could teleport, for god's sake, he was already in trouble just being in this city.

 _You're welcome_ , he typed eventually.  
_But I'd rather not tell you my name. I'm sorry._

At this point, Jongin should be rightfully freaked out and distance himself. Maybe he wouldn't even answer again after this. But Jongin remained just unpredictable enough to keep Kyungsoo surprised.

_Did you approach me to recruit me for the blue faction you're in?_

Kyungsoo lay down as he typed back. He was safe on that front. No harm in being truthful.

_No. That's the reason I went to see you, not the reason why I texted you.  
It's up to you whether you believe it._

Jongin started typing. Stopped. Waited a few seconds. Picked up typing again. Kyungsoo waited.

_Okay. If you won't tell me your name, tell me what your tattoo says?_

A demand with a question mark. Kyungsoo very rarely got demands anymore, at least not thoughtless ones like this. But Jongin was rightfully curious, rightfully skeptical. And Kyungsoo was just a bit too desperate to push him away even further. He bared his neck and took a photo, sat up to take two more, and then cropped them accordingly. Unlike Luhan or Chanyeol, the message around his throat was longer, the letters high, narrow and sharp as a pin. Very few people got close enough to read them. Now he sent pictures of them, for the first time.

 

_We're free, but we are **too** free._

_We can go everywhere_

_And can go nowhere._

* * *

 

 

Jongin didn't stop talking to him after that, but the texts _changed_.

Now, he had started to ask questions. So many questions.

_What exactly do you do for a living?_

_Why are the tattoos different on everyone?_

_Do you lead a dangerous life?_

_What can you do, what's your skill?_

Most of them Kyungsoo couldn't answer. Whatever information wasn't incriminating though, he was willing to give.

 _They are different because we gotta swear on something that means something to **us**_ , he replied one day, in between meetings. _If we turn on our brothers, they'll cut right along the words, scratching through them. If you're lucky, you get away with a scar._  
  
Jongin started typing immediately. He was fast at typing, too, for the answers always came in a flash.

_...yikes. Are you really safe?_

Kyungsoo smiled. Oh, the irony. He replied with reassurance. After all, methods this drastic didn't have to be done... a lot. There were only two people whom he had actually allowed to get away with a scar though, and both of them had been smart enough to never be seen again.

He wasn't the only one on the receiving end of Jongin's child-like curiosity though.

_The landlord lady told me that most of the higher ups in your faction have special skills?  
Do you have a high rank?_

_Do you realize that you shouldn't be asking me this?,_ Kyungsoo replied one morning. Jongin didn't let up easily though.

_What's your special ability though? Why won't you tell me? Isn't it a known fact?_

Oh, it is, Kyungsoo thought. That was the issue. One of the issues. Because after the first wave of questions had died down, and Jongin was convinced Kyungsoo didn't mean him any harm, he insisted on seeing him again. He'd ask Kyungsoo to show up to his performances, and Kyungsoo would say he was busy. Over and over again Kyungsoo denied the invitations and then attended, anyway, hidden in the sea of people. Even if it was the same piece, he didn't mind. Watching Jongin was like watching an artist paint a masterpiece in front of his eyes. Some parts turned out just a little different every time, others remained the exact same, and Kyungsoo was starting to see which ones those were. The whole situation was a ticking bomb for so many reasons. For one, rivals were starting to take notice of Jongin, though the dancer took Kyungsoo's advice of not letting them get close to him. On his end, Zitao suspected what was going on, seeing Kyungsoo visit the theater again and again. And looking deeper, Kyungsoo was aware that he felt too much for Jongin. Way too much.

Reasonably speaking, it made sense. Jongin was physically attractive, all but magnetic in his aura, but he was also the first person in a long time who talked to Kyungsoo at eye level, who didn't even know his name, but knew a whole lot of other things no one else knew about. To him, he wasn't Do Kyungsoo, the powerful leader of an unnamed organization ruling the city with an iron fist. He was a kind stranger who once gifted him a scarf and who prefered music played on actual instruments over computer-generated tunes. Who prefered to cook his own food, even if he could afford expensive restaurants. Who liked dogs and left a bowl of food for them outside his apartment every day. And to Kyungsoo, Jongin was nothing short of amazing. He was kind, a tad naive but ready to learn and improve. Diligent and not too pushy, but also stubborn and insistent when he wanted to be. Jongin knew what he wanted and despite lacking experience, Kyungsoo knew he would eventually end up on the biggest stage the world could possibly offer a ballet dancer. Kyungsoo thought it wouldn’t be easy to impress him with strength or a sense of purpose, but that's exactly what Jongin did. The amount of yearning he felt for him was puzzling and disorienting. It was Zitao who shed light on this one day.

He bemoaned a relationship that was dying before it could fully bloom, because it was close to impossible for him to fall in love with someone with no special ability. Back then, Kyungsoo actually dropped his poker face entirely, which didn't go unnoticed by his attentive brother. ' _Didn't you know? Isn't it the same for you?_ '

 

Kyungsoo was actually embarrassed because he never thought about it that way. He had honestly thought that love was something he wasn't capable of feeling. Not like he missed it terribly. It had simply never happened. But if he could only fall for someone like him, then maybe that was the reason. Sure, he had quite a few people with special skills working for him, but he had never seen any of them that way. There was a time when he would hook up with Chanyeol once in awhile, but there had never been any romantic feelings involved.

So this meant he was genuinely crushing on Jongin, and he was pretty confident Jongin returned his feelings. Could things get any more complicated? Kyungsoo didn't know what to do. He didn't want to endanger Jongin, but this was so new and fascinating and maybe one of the only chances at love he'd ever get. He could tell himself that this wasn't the right person, but how could Jongin be anything but the right person?

Zitao told him to bring him into their faction already. Kyungsoo refused.

Jongin asked him to come to his performance. Kyungsoo refused.

This time, Jongin seemed serious about it though, and started actually _pleading_.

_It's a new piece, and I thought of you while I trained for it. The theme reminded me of you. It's pretty hard, but I'll try my very best, so please?_

_I won't ask you weird questions, you don't even have to talk to me, just come watch?  
Please?_

And oh, Kyungsoo was so screwed.

 

_I'll be there._

* * *

 

 

There was no need to pretend and get bad seats this time - Jongin knew he was attending, so he might as well go for the first row again.

The program was called 'Celestial Delinquent,' and Kyungsoo was already wondering why Jongin would associate him with that. Did he consider Kyungsoo a 'good' person? Someone who breaks the law to do good? Celestial meant to be sent from the sky, and only angels ascended from the sky. Was Kyungsoo a twisted kind of guardian angel to him?

Wasn't that what Kyungsoo would like to be, despite being aware of the hypocrisy?

When the curtain was lifted and the spotlight shone on the first pair of glittery ballet shoes, it cleared his mind. When Jongin actually appeared on stage - in a wisp of smoke again - he held his breath. Jongin was dressed in pure white from top to bottom, making his sun-kissed skin look even more intense. Complex costumes, white symbols drawn across his cheeks and an expression of vulnerability and determination had Kyungsoo silently enraptured. The piece was of a very different style, too, Jongin had been right about that. Kyungsoo really wished he was a better, more respectful person, but whenever Jongin stepped out of the spotlight and into the background, Kyungsoo's eyes followed him and only him, the main stage entirely forgotten. He could only think of how much he wanted to hug Jongin, to hold him close and congratulate him, maybe kiss him somewhere no one would find them. He wouldn't do that, of course. In fact, he fully intended to leave the vicinity after the performance, despite Jongin obviously staring after him from the stage. But then he caught a smidge of red from the corner of his eye and saw someone slipping backstage. Someone he did not want to see here. He exchanged a look with Zitao, who had been waiting for him at the exit. Then he changed directions and walked towards the backstage area, knowing fully well that his brother would follow. No one questioned him, because even if this wasn't his area, there was nobody who _wouldn't_ know his face. It was easy to spot the mop of bright red hair, easier than spotting Jongin at first glance, who was standing in front of him, looking mildly interested. Kyungsoo picked up his pace.

"-and that was just breath-taking," the redhead gushed, about to shake Jongin's hand when Kyungsoo intervened, voice purposefully calm.

"Jongin."

Jongin's head flew up immediately, and his expression lit up in a painfully obvious way. Kyungsoo's face betrayed nothing as he stepped beside him. His words were easy, but his gaze was anything but as he fixed the redhead with his round, golden spectacles and the distinct, small tattoo of a red diamond just below his left eye.

"I apologize for the interruption, but we're in a bit of a hurry. I hope you understand," Kyungsoo said politely, and the leader of the red faction, the closest rival they had at the moment, slowly lowered his hand to shoot Kyungsoo a _pleasant_ smile.

"Oh?" he asked in mock surprise, eyes flitting in between him and Jongin. Jongin, with his stupidly bright eyes. Jongin, who was staring at Kyungsoo unabashedly. And he smiled, eyes narrowing.

"What a pity," he replied, and Kyungsoo felt the anger bubbling up, felt his hairs standing up on his neck as his muscles tensed up. "I'll leave _you two_ to it, then," he added sweetly, and with a nod, he turned to leave, two people subtly following after him. Kyungsoo stared after him, waited until he had left the area and Zitao kept an eye on them from where he stood by the exit.

Internally, Kyungsoo was cursing. This was so, so bad. What had he done? What else should he have done? He couldn't let them take Jongin away. He almost lashed out at Jongin as the other touched his shoulder without warning.

"Are you alright?" he asked, worried glance flitting over to the exit. "I would have declined anything they'd have to offer, anyway."

He said it like a promise, like proof of his loyalty. As if he'd have a choice.

"Anyway, I got you a present, you know? That's also why I wanted you to come today, let me just get it real quick!"

He turned around and bustled towards the dressing room. The moment he was out of sight, Kyungsoo whirled around and left with fast, determined strides. No. He wasn't doing this. He couldn't do this to Jongin.

Zitao was about to silently follow, but Kyungsoo asked him to look after Jongin, and that he did.

Kyungsoo just followed his instincts that screamed to run, run away and not be a part of Jongin's life anymore. He was still trembling from adrenaline and anger. How dare Baekhyun place such a thinly veiled threat, and in public at that? They had a very open rivalry, but this was just low. People liked to imagine gangs as bloody fights and bullets to the head, but Kyungsoo was no fool. He knew that the most crucial situations were often those that looked casual. Those that could happen right beneath the public's nose and not gain any attention at all. In this case, a big rival had shown up and Kyungsoo had foolishly bared his weak spot. Who knew what consequences this might have in the future? He had exposed Jongin as even more valuable to the underworld than he had already been. It was his fault.

 

Kyungsoo ignored Jongin's messages that ranged from ' _Please reply_ ' and ' _Why is this man watching over me?_ ' to ' _Why are **you** not watching over me? Please talk to me_'.

Jongin promised not to join them, that he would not betray him, that they were friends.

Kyungsoo took two days to find theaters in various towns that would love to have Jongin. He knew that Jongin would be furious though, which made him hesitate in finally telling him. It was understandable. Kyungsoo had ruined his big dream, simply for selfish reasons. But people knew that they were associated in a way Kyungsoo had never been associated with anyone else before - it made Jongin vulnerable, a target to too many powerful people. Transferring him seemed like the best solution. Considering how he could teleport, he could technically come visit Kyungsoo, but this thought was so incredibly ludicrous that Kyungsoo felt embarrassed for silently thinking it. Jongin would never want to see his face again.

ZItao wasn't complaining about the guard duty, surprisingly. He did tell him that ' _the boy was acting weird_ ,' but who was Kyungsoo to question that?

On the third day, Kyungsoo finally sent Jongin the job offers, complete with a curt, but genuine apology. Jongin didn't even reply.

Kyungsoo felt ridiculous, like a lovesick kid that was moping around his apartment, but even he should be allowed an off-day when nothing that immediately required attention was going on. Frankly, he just wanted to be alone and get over the fact that he would not be with Jongin, ever, so he could hopefully start the next day fully functioning again.

He was about to get into his sleepwear, had just opened the first two buttons of his dress shirt, when the door opened. Kyungsoo's first reaction was to tense up, eyes flitting to his nightstand where he knew his gun was. Then a familiar voice sounded through the apartment.

"It's me, Soo."

It was Zitao. He wasn't asking him to come to the door, which would have been suspicious. Either way, he was safe, so Kyungsoo did walk to the door, only to see a sheepish-looking Zitao lean in the doorway and a miserable-looking Jongin peeking out from behind him. Kyungsoo glared at his younger brother.

"Why did you bring him here-"

But the other was prepared and lifted his hands in defense.

"I didn't," he said, looking over his shoulder at Jongin, whose shoulders had raised in alarm at Kyungsoo's tone. "He found it all on his own. I had no idea that this was what he was looking for or that he even knew about it. But he found the writing."

Oh. Kyungsoo was startled, Jongin mildly guilty, his eyes flitting to the spot next to the door. The spot where Kyungsoo had carved the words he wore around his neck into the wall many years ago. Because Kyungsoo may have a scary amount of money and an expensive, pretty office around the middle ground, but he never intended to forget and move on from his roots that lay deep down in the formerly dirty cellar of the city.

Zitao wore an unreadable expression that Kyungsoo _knew_ meant business.

"I didn't lead him here, but you gave him the key. You never did that before. So I figured I'd let him in. I'll wait outside, call me if you need me."

He stepped aside, and Jongin fixed him with an unsure gaze, waiting for permission. Well, there wasn't much else to do for Kyungsoo at this point, so he sighed and nodded. Jongin closed the door behind him and orderly placed his shoes by the door before hesitantly following Kyungsoo into the rather dim living room. His blinds were mostly shut, since he had intended to sleep and his apartment may be renovated, but the space remained cramped. Wordlessly, Kyungsoo retrieved two glasses and a bottle of chilled water. When he returned, Jongin was sitting on the couch, a little parcel in his lap that he hurriedly offered to him. As if Kyungsoo would kick him out again any moment. As if that would do anything now.

He took it with a small sigh and in response to Jongin's urgent gaze, opened it right where he stood. There was a small, black box inside. He patiently placed the paper on the table - maybe he was just stalling for time - before he opened the box to reveal a pin. It was small, round and of a shimmery white that was thinly framed in silver. Like a tiny full moon, maybe just like a simple button. Understated and extremely simple.

"I wanted to repay you for the scarf. I hope this isn't too cheap for you," Jongin muttered. Gingerly, Kyungsoo touched the polished surface, and his heart just _hurt_.

"I like it," he simply said.

"I heard from the people around me that you made living here much better," Jongin added, still desperate to get what he wanted to say off his chest, unaware of the fact that Kyungsoo was momentarily tied down by conflict and not about to kick him out. "That before you guys took care of this district, things were really bad and there were many crimes. Missing children and murders in broad daylight. And judging by what happened the past days I assume you're more than just a simple member. Just... thank you for your hard work."

Kyungsoo closed his eyes and huffed out a small, choked laugh.

"I'm really not. I'm in charge of everything here," he said quietly, turning the pin until a lone sliver of light hit it, just to see it blink.

"But we're no heroes, Jongin. We all have blood on our hands, and someone like you will never be able to stay clean in a place like this."

He forced himself to look up and into Jongin's dimly illuminated features.

"It's not fair, and I'm sorry about that."

Jongin licked his lips, and then determination flickered in his orbs.

"Why can't I join you?"

"Jongin, no," Kyungsoo immediately shot him down, and Jongin got to his feet, clearly not ready to back down.

"But why not?"

"You're a dancer, Jongin. A wonderful dancer. You don't belong in this dirthole, you don't deserve to be exploited," Kyungsoo began, one hand half-heartedly stretched out but not touching. Jongin met him halfway and held his hand, sending a spark up the other's arm.

"Then don't exploit me," he began. "I'm way more safe if I'm one of yours, right? I can continue to dance, I can pay my respects in another way, I'll work hard-"

"You'd be in danger!" Kyungsoo almost yelled, but he didn't shake Jongin's hands off. "People are safer under our umbrella, but you're- you're different. You'd be _closer_ to me. Too close."

There, he'd said it. It may be obvious, but now he had voiced out. Jongin was more than just any other member. And Jongin didn't even blink at that.

"I can also run away faster than anyone else if things get dangerous," he whispered, squeezing Kyungsoo's hand as he looked at him, fully determined. "Kyungsoo, please. I don't wanna leave the stage and I don't wanna leave you. _Please_."

Kyungsoo looked at him and oh, he wanted to just say yes. He wanted it so badly. And Jongin knew it, too.

"I thought a lot about the meaning behind your tattoo," he said, grasping Kyungsoo's hand with both of his now. " _We can go everywhere or nowhere_ , it says - if you have too much freedom, it can lead to you achieving both great and terrible things, but also to getting comfortable and lazy and reaching nothing at all. I don't wanna sit back and give up. I don’t wanna reach nothing at all. I wanna be here. This is my decision."

It was an absurd concept to Kyungsoo that someone did not want to purely rely on his protection, but to be an equal. Hold and be held, protect and be protected, each in their own way. Kyungsoo sighed barely audibly, placed the box on the table to carefully tug Jongin down to sit on the couch and then pull him closer with his free hand cupping the back of Jongin's head. He all but melted against him, snuggling into the crook of his neck like he belonged there, had always done so. Kyungsoo buried his nose in his curls, inhaled the scent of his shampoo and the distinct note of _Jongin_. For a long time, he stayed like this, and neither of them moved at all. When Kyungsoo spoke, it came out muffled, hot breath against Jongin's scalp.

"No tattoo though."

Jongin hummed in curt agreement, rubbing his cheek against the side of his throat. Goosebumps prickled over Kyungsoo's lower arms.

"You'll be less alone, especially for now."

Jongin hummed again, and started tracing his tattoo with his lips. Kyungsoo suppressed a shudder.

"You might have to move."

Jongin did move, in order to have better access to the letters inked into his skin and the loose, uncoordinated presence of three fingers over his lips was enough to shut Kyungsoo up.

 

* * *

 

 

"Kyungsoo, look, I got a tattoo!"

Kyungsoo's head whipped up from his pager, away from his emails to stare at Jongin, who had just walked in, placing his silver scarf over the back of the couch, moving with the ease of a live-in boyfriend who liked to forget he had his own apartment.

"Are you kidding me?!"

He jumped to his feet to cup Jongin's neck, slipping beneath the loose collar without hesitation, and Jongin only bared his throat to let him, but there was nothing marring his smooth, golden skin. Kyungsoo visibly relaxed and Jongin had the nerve to grin as he lifted his hand for him to see. A string of letters was reached around like a bracelet, the letters fine and precise, and a little shimmery in the artificial light.

_I will grow a beautiful flower._

"What, is this your way of telling me you want kids?" he asked jokingly, and Jongin nudged his shoulder with his free hand, a childish, dragged out "No!" on his lips.

Kyungsoo gave in and placed a kiss on his palm.

"That's so you," he murmured, smiling. "Okay then. I'll protect that flower."

_I'll protect you._

And you'll protect me, Kyungsoo thought. By reminding me that there are still courageously blooming flowers, even here.

 


End file.
